


Tryste Noel

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Erotica, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Heterosexual Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, The Quidditch Pitch: Erotic Couplings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-04-15
Updated: 2006-04-15
Packaged: 2018-10-27 16:39:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10812840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: Meet me at 8 o'clock Friday night. Wear the green and black. Love, D...A person can't be too careful these days, Pansy knows. Especially not when her boyfriend is on the run from the Ministry of Magic and Harry Potter.





	Tryste Noel

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

  
Author's notes: For [](http://community.livejournal.com/smutty_claus/profile)[**smutty_claus**](http://community.livejournal.com/smutty_claus/), recipient's name [](http://hydaspes.livejournal.com/profile)[**hydaspes**](http://hydaspes.livejournal.com/), who asked for Draco (among other characters) with a Christmasy feel.  Thanks to [](http://abigail89.livejournal.com/profile)[**abigail89**](http://abigail89.livejournal.com/) and especially [](http://slytherincess.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://slytherincess.livejournal.com/)**slytherincess** for reading and offering very sage beta advice.  


* * *

^*^*^

_Meet me at 8 o'clock Friday night. Wear the green and black. Love, D_

Fourteen words, brought by an eagle owl Pansy knows as well as her own. Pansy shudders, wondering where he is, what he's been doing in the six months, five days and fifteen hours since she discovered he'd run off in the company of Professor Snape. Pansy knows that wherever he is, Draco is safe and he wants to see her. She rushes to the owlery, finds her owl and ties a parchment to his leg.

_Same place? Prove to me that you're who you say you are._

A person can't be too careful these days, Pansy knows. Especially not when her boyfriend is on the run from the Ministry of Magic _and_ Harry Potter. Potter, the _Chosen One_. Pansy's lip curls in a sneer at the idea of the thoroughly mediocre Potter, a half-blood raised as a Muggle, trying to take on the Dark Lord. She moves from class to class in a daze, one day only half-hearing whatever charms Flitwick is trying to teach, the next day doodling a tall, pointy boy with white-blond hair while she ought to be paying attention to McGonagall's lecture on human transfiguration.

Late on Thursday afternoon, the eagle owl returns. This time, the small parchment bears a lock of white-blond hair and the words "April 23rd in greenhouse 3". Pansy smiles.

As her last class ends on Friday afternoon, Pansy bolts from the classroom and shoves her way through crowds of students, racing down to the Slytherin dungeons. Thankful that no one else has returned to the seventh-year girls' dorm yet, she digs in her trunk until she finds what Draco wants her to wear. A quick locking charm later, her school clothes lie in a heap on the stone floor. Pansy adjusts the clasp on the bra, pulls the black silk stockings slowly up her legs and secures them in the garter belt. She could magic everything together, but she lets her fingers drift against her skin as a prelude to what will happen later. She buttons her skirt just as Millicent and Daphne enter the dorm.

"Going down to dinner?" Millicent asks in a tired tone.

"Yes. In a while."

Daphne cocks an eyebrow. "You sound distracted. Is something going on that we should know about?"

Pansy can't let them know what she's doing tonight. "No, nothing special. Just another boring Friday evening in the library." She waits a moment, her eyes searching their faces for any sign that they might suspect something. None comes.

"Don't do anything we wouldn't do," Millicent smirks.

Pansy smiles slightly, struggling to suppress a grin. If they only knew what she really expects to do….

^*^*^

At dinner Pansy sits at the far end of the Slytherin table, away from Millicent, Daphne and Tracey. The Great Hall is quieter than usual, even for December. After Hogwarts was attacked the previous June, about half the students failed to return for the fall term. Still, the staff has tried to keep up appearances. This year there is only one gigantic Christmas tree in the Great Hall, and it's decorated with coloured balls of spun sugar rather than fairy lights. It's rather plain by Hogwarts standards, plain but serviceable. Appropriate for wartime, Pansy thinks as she eats dinner slowly, slipping chocolate biscuits, apples and chunks of bread off the table and into the sleeves of her robes.

As the last Slytherins struggle away from dinner, Pansy stays behind. When everyone else has left the Great Hall, she moves quickly up and down the Slytherin table. The house elves will never miss that leftover treacle tart, Pansy thinks as she Reducto's and pockets that as well.

Finally done foraging, Pansy trudges to the library. She's spent a lot of time there this term, prowling the Restricted Section. Being a prefect does have perks, and Pansy's fingertips linger on the blistered spine of _Moste Potente Potions_. The leeches she had to steal from Snape's cupboard last year made he skin crawl, but Draco said he needed them, so she did what she could to help. Pansy's mind drifts back to a different hour, an hour when she lay in Draco's bed, her head resting on his pillow as he pounded into her. Tonight, though, she can tell that Draco has something festive in mind, and she aches with anticipation for whatever he's planned. It's just two weeks before Christmas, and Pansy wants to give him an early Christmas gift. Considering his circumstances, it's the least she can do.

At half-seven, Pansy gathers her books and leaves the library just as Madam Pince begins to threaten a group of Hufflepuff firsties with bodily harm if they set even a toe in the direction of the Restricted Section. A little kerfuffle like this is perfect, she thinks. No one notices as she silently slips out the library, through the shadows on the fourth floor and over to the third floor corridor on the way to Gryffindor Tower. Draco had been right last year -- the statue of the hump-backed witch does house a tunnel that leads all the way to Honeyduke's. Once she climbs out of the tunnel, it's easy to break out of the sweet shop and head to her Apparition point outside Hogmeade.

Pansy checks her watch. It's five after eight. She hopes that Draco isn't too displeased. Pulling her winter cloak tightly around her, she concentrates on where he's hiding and shuts her eyes. Two seconds later, she emerges, cloak fluttering in the snowfall, outside Draco's hideout. Icicles drip like stalactites over the front door of the ramshackle cottage. Pansy points her wand, probing for wards. Draco hasn't disappointed her; the icicles are full of repelling charms. She'll have to prove her identity.

She knocks six times quickly, pauses, and then knocks five times slowly. There's no answer.

"Draco, it's Pansy," she calls in a loud, clear voice.

There's a pause, then a baritone reply through the door. "Prove it."

Pansy can't help smirking as she formulates her response. "You've got a small mole on the inside of your left thigh, very…high up. You love when I lick it."

Three long icicles melt, allowing Pansy to open the door and enter.

The front room of the cottage surprises her. The dank plastered walls now glow with a warm, reddish light. Pansy smiles as she realizes the source of the light -- a seven-foot-tall Christmas tree at the far end of the room.

"You've outdone yourself this time," Pansy says, peering into the shadows to locate her lover.

"I'm a fugitive, not a ruffian," Draco replies, pushing up from a low, stuffed chair on the opposite side of the room. He looks thinner and paler than the last time she saw him. "Malfoys always have a tree for Christmas."

Pansy eyes the tastefully decorated tree carefully. "Let me see. You used a severing charm to cut the tree down and a levitating charm to move it inside. Under cover of darkness, of course."

"Of course," he smirks. "I didn't get this far by wandering around in broad daylight. The rest was easy; I just transfigured odd bits of junk around this shack into ornaments and lights."

"That was very clever and resourceful of you," she declares, wrapping her arms around his waist and burrowing her head in his shoulder. "I'm so glad to see you again. Relieved, too."

Draco pets her hair, then cups her face in his hands and kisses her softly. "I'm relieved to be here."

That's as close as either of them has ever come to confessing the depth of their feelings. Pansy and Draco have never exchanged _I love you'_ s, and she doubts they will any time soon. Saying it might jinx them both. Better to just enjoy their time together without trying to name what they feel….

"I brought you some food," she informs him, trying to lighten the conversation. "It's hidden in the sleeves of my cloak." Muttering an unsticking charm, she pulls the biscuits, apples, bread and treacle tart one by one from her sleeves, then drops them into a bowl on the small, rough table near the Christmas tree. Draco grabs a handful of chocolate biscuits and shoves them into his mouth, chewing them quickly.

Arching an eyebrow at him, Pansy slips out of her cloak and hangs it on a peg near the door. Draco swallows the biscuits and then returns her look. "Thank you. I've been hungry today."

His eyes travel slowly from her face down to her neck, then her breasts and finally land on her skirt, where his gaze lingers until Pansy blushes. He crosses the room in two long strides and wraps his arms around her waist. His lips slide up Pansy's neck; she tilts her head, shuddering as he slowly licks her jaw line and grinds his pelvis against her hip. Despite at least three layers of clothing separating his skin from hers, Draco's desire for her is obvious.

She smiles, turning her face up to his. "How hungry are you?" she purrs.

He pulls her closer against him, the long slim fingers of his left hand raking through her hair as he shoves his right hand under her skirt.

"Very, very hungry," Draco growls, then smashes his lips against hers as though he would devour them. His tongue traces her lower lip; automatically her lips part to let him in. Pansy shudders as heat begins to pool between her legs and a wave of sensation threatens to pull her under and drown her plans for the evening.

She pulls away, breathing heavily. "I know what you want. I've come to give it to you." Not wasting a second, she deftly undoes his trousers with a quickness borne of practice. Her hand finds his cock and begins milking the hot, hard flesh. Pansy knows just how Draco likes to be touched: she alternates long, firm strokes with slithering fingertips, coaxing the milky fluid from the tip and swirling it around the head of his cock while Draco moans incoherently. As he bucks into her hand, Pansy can sense his approaching orgasm. She pulls her hand off and backs away, bringing a pained frown to Draco's face.

"Pansy, don't…I'm going to…come soon…"

'No, you're not," she says, her tone commanding him. "Not until I'm ready for you. Now sit down and keep on stroking yourself while I get ready."

Pants and trousers fallen to his ankles, Draco nods, pumping slowly into his own hand as he sits on the edge of the sofa. Pansy watches his face contort with pleasure as his fingers rub up and down his cock. He'll do this for her, she knows. He always does what she asks when it comes to sex. Then she repays the favor. She's his equal and they both know it; that's what makes her and Draco so good together, Pansy muses.

As Draco's hips rock faster, Pansy bends over, unbuttons his shirt, and pulls his chin up, forcing him to look at her. "Watch me."

Draco continues to pump; he's transfixed as Pansy begins to disrobe barely an arm's length beyond him. Languidly, she undoes the buttons of her blouse, slides off one sleeve then the other, and drops the garment on the floor. Just as slowly, she unzips her skirt and lets it shimmy down her legs in a heap at her feet. She steps out, standing right in front of Draco now, her black undergarments shining in the glow of the Christmas tree. Off comes the bra, then the garter belt, then the lacy thong.

Finally, her skin glistening in the candlelight, Pansy is naked except for her black silk stockings. She props one leg on the edge of the ratty sofa, her foot outside Draco's hip, and slowly, tantalizingly rolls one stocking down her leg. Draco leans toward her and licks her inner thigh. Pansy grabs his head and pulls his mouth onto her breast; Draco sucks and licks her nipple until Pansy almost forgets what she wants to do. Unceremoniously she pushes him back into the sofa cushions.

"Not yet. Soon," she breathes as she rolls the remaining stocking down her other leg. Draco's hand is sticky now, moving feverishly as he tries desperately to delay his orgasm. Moving quickly, Pansy pries his hand off his cock, then pulls both of Draco's hands up over his head and ties them together at the wrists with one of her stockings. Then she climbs onto the sofa, her knees straddling Draco's hips, and lowers herself onto his cock. Draco lowers his tied hands until they circle behind Pansy's head, which drops onto his shoulder as she rides him, updownaround updownaround, in a great circle that gets smaller and tighter as she draws every last bit of sensation out of him. She rocks, he rolls; she pushes, he shoves back. She pinches his nipples; his teeth graze her neck. She shudders, about to scream his name, but he kisses her and murmurs _Silencio_ just as she comes.

Draco smiles and the stocking tie slides off his wrists. Boneless, Pansy slips off his cock and slumps against his chest, her heart beating furiously inside her own. Draco's lips trace a line down her neck to her shoulder and then her breast, which he suckles as he rolls her over on the chair. Pansy leans back, her hair fanned against the chair back, happy to let Draco take the lead for the next part of their tryst. Her body is splayed, legs pulled wide over the legs of the chair, and she smiles as he ties her ankles down with her own stockings. A moment later his soft, wet tongue traces a line up her left thigh until it reaches her pussy. She shudders and again tries to moan as his tongue delves inside her, but he hasn't lifted the silencing charm. After ten minutes of Draco's tongue teasing and tormenting her flesh, Pansy squirms and begs him with her eyes.

"Can't lift the charm yet," he whispers against her, licking her one last time. "It's too dangerous. I'd rather not have the Dark Lord or his minions popping in on us when we're naked and defenseless."

The bonds on her ankles fall off and he flips her over onto her knees. Her breasts heave against the rough fabric of the chair as Draco enters her from behind. He's as hard and slick as she's ever had him, his left hand steady on her hip while his right index finger finds her clit. His thrusting pushes her face into the cushion until she fears she'll pass out, whether from ecstasy or lack of air she doesn't know and doesn't care. She wants this to be over; she wants it never to end. She wants to scream but can't, so the chair becomes the keeper of her secret sighs and moans. He slams into her one last time, a thrust that threatens to break her in two.

The clock on the mantel strikes ten. Tears roll down Pansy's cheek.

Draco slumps against her back, his lips resting gently on her shoulder as he mumbles endearments through his post-sexual fog. His index finger stays on her clit, rolling slowly until Pansy shudders one last time.

"That was incredible," he whispers, and Pansy feels the constriction lift from her throat as he pulls out and leans away from her. By the time she lifts her torso off the chair and turns to look at him, he's zipping up his trousers and tucking in his shirt. "You'd best get dressed yourself," he says gently. "Don't stick around any longer than you have to. Who knows how quickly I might have to leave…"

Pansy nods, painfully aware of how tentative his existence is in this place.

Five minutes later, she's ready to go. Draco follows her to the door, pressing a small ornament from the Christmas tree into her hand. The Slytherin crest is engraved on one side of the silver disc; the serpent occasionally lifts its head off the surface and hisses at her.

"It's lovely," she whispers, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "I'll treasure it always."

"Don't put it away after the holidays. It's charmed so that I can contact you later."  
  
She smiles. "Very clever once again. You never cease to amaze me." Standing on tiptoe, she leans up and kisses him one last time, lingering in his arms. Every time she sees him, she worries it will be the last. "Stay safe."

Draco nods, his Adam's apple bobbing uncertainly in his throat as he closes the door behind her.

Pansy fingers the disc as she stands in the snow outside the cottage. Once she's safely back in her dormitory, she hangs the ornament on the tiny Christmas tree next to her bed.

Later, when Millicent asks where she got the ornament, Pansy says it's a family heirloom. And whenever the ornamental snake rears its head, Pansy thinks of the evening she spent making love to Draco near the magicked Christmas tree.

^*^*^  



End file.
